First of all, congrats to Honest Don, headed for the White House again, to the horror of many millions of Americans and the delight of many millions more. At least it’s unlikely that his presidential duties will curtail his golf because everybody knows that fresh air and exercise (overlook the buggy) stimulate the brain and improve the decision-making process. Ah well, we can dream.
At least Rory (McIlroy) is hopeful that this could lead to a resolution of the LIV impasse. It’s a conundrum that the incoming president might be willing to solve but surely it shouldn’t be high up there on a list of global priorities? In fact, really, it shouldn’t be on the list at all – unless you want to lob in human rights, women’s rights and the excessive influence of multi-billionaires, all those sorts of messy things.
On second thoughts, perhaps it’s just the thing that should be exercising a world leader. And we know that Bryson DeChambeau, the US Open champion and LIVer, is a Trump supporter since he pitched up at the election celebration party. Don’t know if Elon Musk, one of the world’s richest men (how did that happen?), is a golfer but he’s also a Trump man and who knows? Rory, Bryson and co could be playing golf on Mars before too long.
Bryson plotting his way to his national title at Pinehurst in June.
Down here on Planet Earth, my playing partner and I were disqualified from the Par comp because we cut out the loop and only played 15 holes. We were semi-respectable – one over and two over if memory serves – when we made the decision but my slightly dodgy knee, being a two-ball behind a lot of threes and a dank, gloomy day getting danker and gloomier made it easy for us to peel off. And we’d made a start on our winter eclectic. Well done to Julie, who won – 4 up she was, very good going.
Things went better on the footie front last week, with an amazing three wins out of three for my teams – I’m not expecting another week, well, five days, as heady as that. The mighty Tamworth Lambs, on national telly, BBC2, beat much more mighty Huddersfield Town 1-nil with a goal for the ages. The Huddersfield goalie, not a regular I believe, will never forget it; no matter what he goes on to achieve, how many brilliant saves he makes (and he made one or two last week), this is guaranteed to feature in all his nightmares.
Tommy Tonks – he’s got no hair but we don’t care; don’t you just love the creativity of football fans and their chants – is Tamworth’s not-so-secret weapon: his effortless long throw-ins terrify defences, causing chaos and mayhem with their power and accuracy; they’re brilliant.
Man of the match Tommy Tonks (right) arranging a game of golf at WHGC with Chris, one of the people responsible for my Tamworth allegiance.
We were at the far end so couldn’t quite see what happened but Tonks launched one of his thunderbolts right into the middle of the Huddersfield goalmouth, various Tamworth bods went up, as did the goalie (smaller than the opposition) and, lo, the ball ended up in the net and the goal was given. Cue more mayhem.
Turns out the goalie was the only player who touched the ball, helping it into his own net, in front of his own supporters. If he’d missed it and the ball had gone straight in from the throw, there’d have been no goal. And, looking at the television replays, if there’d been VAR, it might well have been disallowed because the hustling and hassling of the goalie looked a bit above and beyond in this more genteel day and age. In the old days, you could barge the goalkeeper into the net and expect to have the goal allowed, no problem. Not so much now. (Though tell that to Vicario of the mighty Totspurs!)
The BBC team and the FA Cup on show at Tamworth. Probably the nearest I, as a Spurs supporter, will get to the trophy.
Next stop, London N17 for Spurs versus Aston Villa, who’d rested most of their first-choice players mid-week (and lost at home to Crystal Palace). They duly went 1-nil up and looked beyond comfortable as we huffed and puffed to no avail. Then, whoosh, suddenly we were off and running and in no time at all we were 3-1 up! We won 4-1 in the end and confirmed that as a Spurs fan you have absolutely no idea what is going to happen – apart from us conceding the opening goal time after time after time.
My fellow Spurs tragic had flown in from Dublin to Stansted – it really is easier for her to get to TH Stadium than it is for me – and it really was worth the journey. Whatever we are as a team, we’re not dull, not entirely predictable but well worth watching. Mostly, we fans get our money’s worth; if not always the credit – or the respect and consideration – we deserve.
This is where I could go on a rant about the bag policy – Augusta National’s is even more ridiculous and ill-thought out but that’s another blog all on its own… And I’ve contacted a friend who’s an ace at packing light in the vain hope that she can transform me! It could take a while.
Ireland are playing the All Blacks in Dublin tonight (Friday), which means I’m safe to go to Tamworth v Ebbsfleet (Kent) on Saturday afternoon, then Spurs v Ipswich on Sunday – are you getting a sense that this football thing is getting out of hand!
Ah well, now to fit in the sweep (should I still have a log burner or freeze in an attempt to save the planet); the loft insulation man; the window cleaner who’s going to clear the gutters, the downpipes, clean the sofits, fascias, lantern, all that malarkey; the blinds man – bathroom needs one now it’s winter; oh yes, and the heating engineer because there’s a sneaky leak in the boiler, which keeps cutting out. Aaaaaagh.
Back to the jigsaw.
There’s still a lot of sea to go but it’s coming along, whatever it looks like.
And did you know that the green leaf attached to the remembrance poppy should sit at 11 0’clock? (See above.)
Entertaining as always Patricia. Your description of fouls committed on poor unsuspecting goalkeepers reminded me of the worst foul and worst miscarriage of justice ever committed on a football pitch. It took place in the 1958 FA Cup Final when a makeshift Manchester United team, hastily put together after the Munich Air Disaster, played Bolton Wanderers. The big strong Bolton and England centre forward Nat Lofthouse charged from the edge of the penalty area to challenge the great hero of Munich, Harry Gregg, the United goalkeeper, as he went up to catch the ball. Gregg cradled the ball in his arms and still had both feet off the ground when Loftouse crashed into him rendering Gregg unconscious when he finished in the back of the net with the ball. Unbelievably, the referee gave a goal and Bolton won the final 2-0, disappointing the entire country ( apart from Bolton fans) who were all behind United after the club had suffered such loss just a few weeks earlier.
Changed times, Simon. Harry Gregg owned a hotel in Portstewart where Maureen and I grew up and I remember him saying that he got very bored if United were so much on top that he had nothing to do. A goalie’s lot is a singular one. Mum became a United fan because of Munich and just a day or two before she died she said to Mo: “Where’s our back four? That Alex will be getting the sack.”….
Very true Patricia! Interesting that Harry Gregg was your neighbour! Your Mum was right! Fergie was very close to being sacked in the early days but the Board persevered and the rest as they say “is history!” Even he wasn’t always right. When asked if he thought that City would be the top team in Manchester. He said “Not in my lifetime!” but then again, in the 26 years he was manager he never lost 4 games in a row!
Amazing record. Quite ridiculous really.